


Too Late?

by Ultra



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Crying, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Letters, Lost Love, Memories, Post-Series, Postcards, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sara Ellis didn’t cry. It was a lie she perpetuated but the whole thing was a con. In her hand, she held the letter that explained it all, giving her the shattering news that Neal Caffrey was dead.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late?

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt 'Too Late' gave me two ideas, a fun vid that I just didn't have the time to make, or a sad story. Fortunately, the sad story, which was easy to write, ended up taking a very hopeful turn. Thanks to guineamania and treonb for the prompt!

Sara Ellis didn’t cry. She was tougher than that, she had to learn to be.

Somewhere between her sister disappearing and a boss that thought she was just some slip of a girl that he could take advantage of, Sara had found her inner bitch. You had to be tough in this life, in New York City, in the kind of job she enjoyed being good at. Independence was a gift, and she was proud to be able to cope alone.

Sometimes life threw you a curve ball.

It wasn’t as if Sara never dated before Neal. She had her share of dates, boyfriends, one-night stands. He was just supposed to be a little fun, maybe not even much more than another notch on her lipstick case. To this day, she had no idea how that man had become so much more.

It had made sense to leave when she did. The job offer was too good to pass up, and there was no way to have Caffrey tag along with her. That pesky ankle bracelet had him staying put for a while yet. Maybe that was part of why she left, because she knew he couldn’t follow. Sara was in over her head from the start and she knew it. So much for keeping things light, just having some fun. The greatest theft of Neal Caffrey’s career was stealing her heart, and they both knew it.

Standing on the balcony of her London apartment, the view was stunning, but Sara wasn’t seeing anything that was actually there. In her mind’s eye, the city stretched out for miles, easily seen from the 103rd floor of the Empire State Building. She wore a little black dress and beside her was a man in a suit with a ring in his hand, making a speech that almost had her in tears.

“Another time, another place,” she said quietly to herself.

Sara Ellis didn’t cry. It was a lie she perpetuated but the whole thing was a con.

In her hand, she held the letter that explained it all, giving her the shattering news that Neal Caffrey was dead. It was stupid, it shouldn’t hurt this much. She hadn’t seen him in more than a year, and it would be so easy to pretend the letter was a mistake, that he was still there in New York, doing what Neal always did. Maybe it was all a sick joke, or at least a clever con. Sara would like to believe that, but somehow the realist in her couldn’t allow her to be calm and resolute.

A few moments was all she allowed herself. A well-manicured hand wiped away stray tears and Sara took herself back inside, hiding the painful letter in a drawer that she purposefully locked.

Work wouldn’t wait, life went on, there was no other choice.

Thinking of potential reunions and happy ever afters had been stupid before, now it was entirely pointless. Charging off to the bathroom, Sara got herself straightened out and ready for work. Hair primped, make up fixed, she came back to the living room to grab her purse and jacket. The same hand that had been wiping away tears just five minutes before now retrieved her cell phone from the table. A double-take brought her attention back to that table in a second, eyes wide with shock as she checked the balcony doors, the window, the front door. All locked, not a thing out of place in the whole apartment, but the postcard had not been there before.

Picking up the card, Sara turned it over in her hand. The handwriting was familiar, as were the words.

“One more adventure?” she read aloud, a smile curving her lips, even as her mascara threatened to lose its grip all over again.

Her eyes searched the room a second time, for evidence of what she knew must be true. If the words hadn’t given him away, the picture on the postcard certainly had. No view of a city, beach or other landscape had been photographed, instead a perfect print of St George and the Dragon by Raphael sat in Sara’s hand.

The alarm on her cell phone beeped. Work wouldn’t wait.

“At least I’m not too late,” said Sara with a smile, as she hurried out of the door.


End file.
